


Never Over

by shannonism (lalastrange)



Category: Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Het, Infidelity, Schmoop, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-09
Updated: 2004-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalastrange/pseuds/shannonism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is Monica capable of choosing between the love of a moment and the love of a lifetime?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Over

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pulling things from the show, but make no mistake this is very AU, Angst-lite. M/R, M/C. This is more of an examination of Monica's psyche than anything, but I don't provide much in the way of answers. Use your imagination for that.

**Faraway, So Close: Part I**

 

"Monica!"

In the midst of her deep thoughts she heard her name being called, several times in fact, before she turned her attention fully to the person beside her. "Huh?" she asked.

Rachel sighed patiently. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" She gestured to Gunther for a refill and turned her attention back to her friend.

"No... I'm sorry Rach. My mind was elsewhere." Monica took a breath to clear her thoughts, shaking her head lightly. "What were you saying?"

"It's not important. Where were you just now?" Rachel looked on curiously before a smile of understanding spread across her lips. "Oh, I know. Thinking about Richard again?"

"Yeah, exactly. I just miss him," she answered. Monica looked away in embarrassment. Her answer couldn't have been further from the truth. Not that a part of her didn't miss her husband of seven months while he was out of town on business. He just wasn't who she'd been thinking about then, or at all lately. No, her mind was consumed with thoughts of her lover.

It was a quite the luxury to be able to think of her husband and her lover as two entirely different men. There was Dr. Richard Burke, the man who made her feel protected and loved and treated her like a princess... taken her as his wife. He was everything she thought she wanted.

But Chandler Bing... he was everything Monica knew she needed.

Her one-time awkward friend had grown into a confident, sexy man who introduced her to a passion she hadn't known existed. He stirred something deep within her that was long dormant. That part of her that not even Richard could touch. Monica knew she was crazy, she had to be, to get involved with Chandler. The possibility of ruining two of the most important relationships in her life was downright frightening. Yet she couldn't pull herself away-- didn't want to pull herself away from what she shared with Chandler. She was too far gone, addicted to what they shared...

And God help her, she was falling in love with him.

"There you go again," Rachel chided playfully.

Monica blushed, realizing once again how Chandler managed to dominate her thoughts. "Sorry," she said halfheartedly.

"So when is he coming back?" Rachel asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Monica settled comfortably on the couch. "Monday," she replied automatically. She'd memorized Richard's schedule for the entire month, down to the second. She told herself it was because she was interested in his career, but that was a lie. It was strategy, nothing more. Juggling a husband and a lover took serious planning.

"That means you're free for the weekend, right?" Rachel asked. "Phoebe and I are going to the movies tonight. You should come."

Monica shook her head in response and she drank from her glass of tea. "No thanks. I think I'm just going to stay home and read a book... maybe do some laundry," she said averting her eyes.

"Are you sure? It'd be fun, the three of us together."

She hesitated for a moment, seriously considering Rachel's invitation. It would be fun to get out of the house, have fun with her girlfriends. Then again, it would also be fun having sex with Chandler all weekend. Her decision was surprisingly easy. "I'm sure," Monica replied. "If I change my mind, I'll call you."

***

Persistent ringing of the doorbell woke Monica from her nap. She glanced at the bedside clock and cursed silently, noting the time: 9:37 p.m. She'd overslept.

She padded soundlessly to the front door as butterflies settled in her belly. She knew exactly who was on the other side, but that still didn't stop her eyes from widening in shock when she opened the door. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

"Hello to you too," Chandler replied dryly. He walked further into the condo as if he owned the place, ignoring the fact that he was inside the home his lover shared with another man.

Monica followed his slow measured movements as he ran his hand across the back of the large leather couch in the center of the room, picking up a pillow absently before setting it back down. "What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"You never showed up and I got worried," he said, turning around to face her once more, giving her a half smile. He admitted to himself that maybe he'd been a little impatient about seeing her. They'd agreed to meet at his apartment at nine o'clock, so a little over thirty minutes late wasn't cause for him to come running over.

"Well as you can see, I'm fine, and... you can't be here."

"Why? You can't have guests now? Should I come back during visiting hours?" he asked smartly. He didn't try to hide the bitterness in his tone. His presence was a sensitive subject between them, and they'd had their share of arguments about it over the course of their relationship. Was it a relationship? Chandler wasn't sure what they had.

Monica frowned. "That's not fair, Chandler. You know why I don't want you coming here by yourself."

He sighed deeply. Of course he knew why, it was practically engraved in his brain. Keeping their more-than-friends status discreet was more difficult than he thought it'd be. The truth of the matter was, he wanted to be able to go to his lover's home whenever he wanted to; he didn't want to have to sneak kisses and caresses when their friends or her husband weren't looking; he wanted to shout it to the world that he was in love, truly in love for the first time in his life, and that was the one thing he couldn't do.

Chandler moved slowly until he was standing in front of her and cupped her cheek in his hand. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I just missed you," he said gently.

Monica nodded, covering her hand over his. "Me too," she said, excitement fluttering through her at the admission. She'd missed him more than she thought she would, and that scared her. She stepped closer as he lowered his head, brushing his lips across hers softly. It was the first contact they'd had in over a week, and it burst quickly out of control as the kiss deepened with every flick of her tongue. Chandler finally stepped back, knowing that any second longer and he'd lose all self-control.

"Uh, let me grab a few things together and we can go," Monica stated with labored breath. At his nod she took off to the master bedroom to pack an overnight bag.

Chandler took a moment to observe his surroundings, taking in the expensive pieces of art that decorated the walls, an odd mixture of eclectic antiques and modern furniture filling every corner of the spacious apartment. The handful of times he'd been here were vague, as he'd been too focused on Monica each visit. But as he circled the living room, he could see touches that were so obviously Monica, or so obviously Richard, but no in between. They hadn't blended any aspects of their lives together, as evidence by the sheer number of times he'd fucked her into his mattress since she'd been married to Richard. That poor bastard, he thought to himself.

Oh well...

Bored, Chandler followed the direction Monica had taken a few minutes before and entered the sanctuary of the master bedroom. He looked around disinterestedly until his gaze fell upon the bed. A smile crept on his face and before he knew what he was doing, he sat down on the firm mattress, almost in awe of what he'd done.

Monica re-entered the bedroom from her walk-in closet and paused mid-step. "Chandler, get out."

"But I like it here," he smiled.

She grabbed his hand, intent on pulling him up from the bed when he caught her off guard, making her fall into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the side of her face with his lips, groaning with contentment at finally having her in his arms. "You took too long."

Monica sighed as she leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder. "I have to pack Chandler, or I won't have anything to wear."

"Who says you'll need any clothes?" he teased, chuckling at the grin on her face. "You're not leaving my sight, or my bed, at all this weekend."

"Sounds heavenly. But I will have to shower at some point."

"Okay, you may leave the bed to shower," he conceded and grazed his lips across her neck. "But that's it. All other requests to leave must be approved by me."

Monica laughed as she turned around to face him. "I think I can handle that." She pushed herself up from her comfortable position in his lap and grabbed her bag to finish packing. Chandler stood up behind her, catching her around the waist again. "Chandler!" she giggled.

"I'm trying to help you pack," he murmured against her neck, sucking patches of smooth skin into his mouth.

She moaned at the sensations his lips, tongue and teeth caused to run through her. "Mmm... I beg you not to help me."

She turned around in his arms and a second later his mouth descended on hers, parting her lips eagerly with his own. A simultaneous moan escaped them both as his tongue teased the roof of her mouth before searching out hers greedily, starving for the taste of her. His hands caressed up and down her back, sifting through her hair as he deepened the kiss. Monica's hands suddenly had a mind of their own as they wondered across his broad chest and down his abdomen. She danced her fingers across the insistent jut of his erection pressed against her, her own desire pooling at the juncture of her thighs as he sucked on her tongue.

A wicked thought occurred to her and Monica walked him backwards until his legs hit the frame of the bed. She hastily unbuckled his belt and jeans, but stopped his hands when they reached for her top. Pulling her mouth from his, she kissed down his neck and dropped to her knees, sliding his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. Licking her lips, she looked up, meeting his hooded gaze. "This is for you," she whispered.

At the first contact of her small hands around his sex, Chandler hissed in pleasure. She caressed his arousal from base to tip, running one fingertip along the weeping slit at the head. She then flicked her tongue across the slit, tasting the salty pre-cum that had become more familiar to her than anything she'd shared with Richard. No, don't think about him...

Monica circled her tongue around the swollen head, drawing her tongue along the sides and down to the base. Her fingers tickled underneath his sac as she engulfed him with her mouth. Chandler's mouth went slack as he tilted his head back, giving himself up to her ministrations that never failed to bring him bliss. She stroked his cock with one hand as her mouth descended further along his length, while her other hand snaked around to the firm globes of his ass. She peered up to watch the expressions scattering across his face, noting that when she squeezed his balls his eyes fluttered; that rubbing her nose against the coarse hair at the root made him moan loudly; and he babbled when she took his entire length inside to the back of her throat.

"God Monica... you're so fucking good at this," he moaned, grasping the back of her head as she kept a steady rhythm sucking him off.

She rammed him to the back of her throat once more, relaxing her throat to take his entire length and girth. She was amazed at Chandler's anatomy... that she'd been able to take all of him inside her and still be able to walk. Well, most times she was able to walk. There was one occasion where she'd been unable to move a muscle, and had christened him with the name 'Mr. Big' from that day forward. It was certainly well deserved.

Monica hands stroked him along with the rhythmic movements of her lips and tongue. As he went further back into her throat, she hummed, playing with his testicles until his muscles tensed and he came with a shout, shooting his warm seed inside her mouth. She continued sucking shallowly, licking up what little ejaculate remained before letting him slip from her lips.

She sat back on her legs and watched as Chandler fell backward on the bed in contentment. Smiling smugly, she leaned forward, whispering against his lips. "I'm going to finish packing."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I'll be right here," he replied sleepily.

***

I never want to leave.

Monica sighed deeply at her irrational thoughts. Of course she knew it wasn't possible, but it didn't stop her from wishing it. Besides her job, which she loved, she also had a husband. Why is it so easy to forget that little detail? If she were honest with herself she'd admit that being with Chandler made her lose sight of any and all things that didn't involve him. That she only knew blue eyes and a lopsided grin. Soft lips and gentle, strong hands. But he also made her laugh, and occasionally blush. He made her breath hitch, and her heart beat entirely too fast. With Chandler she disregarded logic and followed her heart.

She shivered and rolled over onto her stomach. The dark wine-colored sheets on his king size bed contrasted beautifully against her white skin. She sighed at the thrill that rolled up her spine when the bed dipped under his weight. He kissed the back of her thighs softly, savoring the salty taste of her skin. She giggled at the feel of his tongue making a path over the curve of her behind, and laughed outright when he nipped the succulent flesh with his teeth. "Oh Chandler..." she breathed.

He braced his arms on either side of her upper body to bear his own weight and leaned down to nestle in the curve of her neck. Raising her head from her pillow, she turned her head and opened her mouth under the onslaught of his deep kiss. She spread her legs in a wider stance when his chest grazed her back and gasped as he entered her in one smooth stroke.

"Baby..." he murmured against her lips, arching into her backside to thrust at an angle that was too delicious for words.

Monica's thoughts became a distant memory as she rode out her orgasm.

***

Early the next morning Chandler found himself outside on his fire escape in a pair of drawstring cotton pants and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He'd been trying to kick the habit for years, and had been successful for a short period of time. It wasn't until he realized one morning that he had no intention of letting Monica go, that he was willingly involved with a married woman. He bought his first pack of cigarettes that day and hadn't looked back.

Of course, the reason he's taken up smoking again hated the smell of it, which is why he spent a good amount of time outside his apartment when Monica spent the night. He shook his head in defeat. He'd do anything in the world for her... smoking outside was a small price to pay to get her all to himself for a weekend.

He took another long drag at that thought. As if he could forget that she was only in his bed for the weekend. He always felt like she was slipping through his fingers. They'd made love throughout the night, and he still needed to be closer, go deeper. He felt himself harden at the thought of being inside her again. His cock had been in a state of perpetual hard-on since getting his first taste of her. She was passionate and sensual... and damn adventurous. He'd tried out more positions and variations of sex with her than with any of his past lovers combined.

When their affair first began, he often wondered just how much of what Monica indulged in with him was shared with Richard. He found his answer a few months later when she brought up the subject of anal sex. "I want to try it with you, Chandler," she'd said. He was flattered and extremely relieved. The thought of Monica on her hands and knees before Richard sent a wave of possessiveness and jealousy through his body. As a matter of fact, he preferred not to think about them in any compromising situation whatsoever.

Yet despite the stolen moments he and Monica shared here and there that never seemed to last long enough, Chandler still knew her better than anyone else. Richard didn't know his wife at all. He didn't know she actually liked it up the ass, or that when she was feeling particularly guilty about cheating on him she went to Chandler for punishment; and he'd then proceed to fuck her unconscious against the wall. He had no idea that a small part of her thrilled at being dominated.

The idiot had no idea his wife was on birth control, or that she preferred sex with Chandler without a condom. He was clueless to the fact that many of their stolen moments took place under his nose.

It was those instances that Chandler focused on, when that voice inside would scream at the injustice of his love belonging to another man. They were the proof he needed that his feelings were reciprocated and that their relationship was real, even if no one else knew it existed. He knew how to make her smile and laugh, how to bring her out of a bad mood. It was Chandler who made her come so hard she blacked out; who knew her body better than she did.

He flicked the butt of his cigarette over the railing and moments later he was inside the warmth of his apartment. After a quick stop to the bathroom to brush his teeth he strolled into his bedroom and leaned against the doorframe. Her beauty always made him pause. He stared at the slopes and curves of her body, partially hidden by the sheets on his bed. Her dark brown hair was in a wild disarray from hours of having run his fingers through the thick mass. His gaze remained fixated on her as he slipped out of his pants and returned to her side, spooning himself along her body.

Monica immediately settled back into his arms. She shivered at the remnants of the brisk morning air still cool on his skin. "You were smoking," she whispered. It wasn't a question, but an observation.

"Mhmm," he nodded against her. "Can't do that inside, can I?" he teased.

She smiled while her eyes remained closed. "I don't keep you from smoking."

"Sure you do. If I smoke I can't do this," he said and cupped her breast. "Or this," he trailed a finger down the middle of her body to the apex of her thighs. His hand nestled comfortably in the wiry hairs of her mound.

"You do have a point," she moaned and turned in his arms, offering him her mouth. His lips slanted over hers and he kissed her hungrily. His hands slid over her body and down her back to cup her bottom. Gentle caresses and lazy kisses were exchanged until they fell asleep, wrapped in each others arms.

***

By mid-afternoon they'd finally made it out of bed. True to his word, Chandler made sure Monica's clothes were useless. As soon as she stepped out of the shower, he toweled her dry and draped a clean shirt from his closet over her body. She made pasta and grilled chicken while he took his turn in the bathroom, and then they had a nice quiet dinner by candle light.

Monica practically felt his gaze run over her as they shared a glass of wine. Her body felt warm and relaxed, sexy and confident as she reclined against the couch facing her lover. She licked her lips self-consciously and played with the hem of his shirt. She tried not to dwell on the fact that their blissful haze would soon end, or on her conflicted feelings about it. She'd miss him without a doubt, as she always did. But she'd also be reunited with her husband, which she should be happy about. Right?

Happiness was the crux of the entire problem, she guessed. She wouldn't be here with Chandler, if she'd been truly happy with Richard. That thought opened up a can of worms Monica knew she wasn't capable of dealing with.

She immediately shrugged it off. It was too late to deal with the how's and why's of her situation. On those rare moments when she was honest with herself, she knew that there was no way she'd give up what she had with Chandler. It was completely selfish on her part, but that didn't change how she felt. As much as she hated to admit it, she was in love with him and knew without a doubt that he loved her. Every touch and kiss, every look showed the depth of his affection for her. She felt lucky and unworthy at the same time. It wasn't right that she reveled in the love of a man she couldn't claim, that she took comfort in a body she immediately had to forget about afterwards. Nothing was fair about this situation... including the way Chandler's hand trailing up and down her thigh turned her into complete mush.

He smirked at her, aware of the effect his hand was having on her body. "What are you thinking about?"

"You don't want to know," she said.

Chandler's eyebrows rose at her comment. "Of course I do. You can tell me anything."

She stared into his eyes. "You sure about that?" she whispered, and at his assured nod she decided to give voice to her thoughts. "I was thinking about you... and Richard." The small smile that lit his face when she said his name fell into a deep frown.

Monica sighed. "Like I said, you don't want to know."

Chandler inched closer to her on the couch, lifting her legs over his lap to reach more of her exposed thighs. "No, I want to hear what you're thinking."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He nearly choked on his answer. He'd like nothing better than to never have to hear Richard's name again in his life, but he wasn't going to tell her that. It was far more important to find out how her husband was able to interfere in their time together.

"I just... I wonder how I ended up in this position. Married to one man, sleeping with another." Monica looked away a moment before dragging her gaze back to his face. "I guess I just never envisioned my life turning out this way."

Chandler caressed the expanse of her neck with one finger, kissing the edge of her jaw gently. "Maybe this is just proof that you're not suppose to be with Richard. You were meant to be with me..."

Her eyes shuttered as his lips moved up her cheek to kiss the tip of her nose, and then down to her lips. His lips pressed gently against hers, lingering for a moment before gliding down her chin. She sighed softly and let herself go. Whatever point she had been trying to make was forgotten when his lips grazed her throat. Yet and still, that voice deep inside her latched on to Chandler's last words: you were meant to be with me... Was that it? The simple answer to all her questions, that she was indeed meant to be with Chandler? Is that why she couldn't stay away from him?

His sucked mouthfuls of flesh on her neck and Monica's mind went completely blank. She brought his face up to hers, kissing him eagerly as she curled her tongue around his. She moaned softly when he deepened the kiss, struggling to get closer and never getting close enough. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in between her thighs. Chandler cradled the back of her head with one hand, combing his fingers through her hair while his other hand unbuttoned the shirt she wore. He cupped one breast and swiped his thumb across her aching nipple in slow circles. Monica lifted her hips into his eagerly, telling him in no uncertain terms where she needed him the most. Impatient hands scrambled to push his pants down over his hips, and together they guided his sex into her opening. He silently thanked the heavens that she was wet and ready for him. Leaning his forehead against hers he closed his eyes, stretching her narrow passage until he was fully inside. He began with shallow thrusts as she whispered his name. Her hands traced the lines of his back and settled on his hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper, faster. Their lips met in a hard kiss as Chandler's barely tethered control snapped. He no longer cared if it was over before it began. His fingers sought out her throbbing clit, adding the pressure she needed and she keened in his ear, clenching his cock until he coated her walls with his own release.

***

Monica groaned at the sound of her cell phone ringing. She tried to sit up but was partially hindered by the weight of Chandler's arm slung across her waist. Reaching toward the night stand, she grabbed her phone and paused when she read the incoming call. It was Richard, calling the house phone. After her first weekend with Chandler, she'd made a note to always forward the calls from the house phone to her cell. "H'lo?"

"Hi sweetheart," he greeted, his voice deep and warm. 'Did I wake you?"

Chandler turned toward Monica beside him. Though his mind was still cloudy with sleep, he was sure she was talking on the phone. The words 'honey' and 'Richard' rang in his ears and he was instantly awake. He took deep calming breaths to stave off the jealousy he felt down to his toes. The carefully built wall of denial he'd built around their relationship chipped when Monica brought her husband up earlier. And now she was on the phone with him, calling him different terms of endearment and sounding downright giddy.

He tightened his arm around her waist and she gazed down at his face. Placing a finger against his lips to prevent any sound from escaping, she leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss against his mouth before resuming her conversation.

Chandler remained quiet for as long as he could before a mischievous glint lit his blue eyes. He caught her gaze as he slid between her legs and pulled them over his shoulders. She thought he was by far the most evil person in the world as she squirmed uncomfortably against him, stifling a moan as he ran his tongue along her inner thigh. Wet heat pooled instantly at her core. She tried to focus on Richard's voice but he may as well have been speaking gibberish for all the sense he made. Chandler bowed his head to inhale their mingled scents that lingered on her body. He parted the dripping lips of her pussy, licking his own in anticipation of drinking his fill of her and flicked his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves at the center.

Monica pulled at his hair to try to force him back and a feral grin crossed his lips. He mimicked her earlier gesture with a finger against his lips and settled back to his previous position. Her body shuddered when he blew gently on the damp curls of her sex, and nearly cried aloud when he flattened his tongue against her, giving her a long sinful lick.

He groaned deeply in his chest. She tasted so fucking good. He darted his tongue in her slit, licking between the folds of her body, under the hood above her clit and back down near the cheeks of her ass.

"Mmmm," she moaned, nearly forgetting that her husband was on the other end of the phone. "What? No honey, I'm sorry I just uh... h-hit my foot on something." Her breathing became labored and she shut her eyes tightly... she needed focus on something, anything, besides Chandler's tongue stabbing deliciously in and out of her body.

Chandler's brow furrowed at her breathless 'honey' into the phone. He knew he couldn't really compete with Richard. Though it pained him to even admit that, he also knew that Richard would never come close to knowing Monica on every possible level as well as he did. Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind Monica of that fact as well. He was certain she would never say the words outright, but her body couldn't lie.

He inserted one finger into her passage, and then another, thrusting them back and forth in a gentle rhythm. Out of one ear he could hear her stumble over her words as the sensations nearly overwhelmed her. He lowered his head and took her clit into his mouth, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to make her hips thrust into his face. Needing to penetrate her more, he pulled her hips forward until his face was buried in her fragrant folds and slid his hand underneath her bottom. Taking the finger still wet with her juices, he caressed along her rectum until he found the puckered opening and slid it inside.

"Oh gaaaaad," she moaned, covering the phone with her hand. She immediately arched from the bed, consumed by the fire set ablaze by Chandler. Mumbling incoherently to Richard, and hopefully conveying to him that now was most certainly not the best time, she snapped the phone shut and threw it across the room.

Hope I didn't break it...

That was her last clear thought as she spiraled out of control, damn near out of her body... his talented mouth and fingers wrung an explosion of ecstasy from her that literally stole her breath away.

Chandler lapped at the abundant liquid flowing from her body like a man dying of thirst. Only when she collapsed beneath him, her body limp from the pleasure she'd just received, did he pull himself away. He kissed a path up her body, from her hip to her belly and the underside of each breast before facing her fully. She opened her eyes and smiled when he kissed her on the lips, taking pride in her body's juices remaining on his face. She licked his lips and giggled, far too sated to be upset with him. A good orgasm could make her forget her name for a moment; and really, he should be commended for his oral talents, not chastised.

She fitted her body against his when he rolled over on his back. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" he whispered in her ear.

But maybe later on she could get revenge in another more enjoyable way.

Monica smiled and closed her eyes once again, her tired body already preparing for sleep. "I can barely move, let alone talk. Questions later," she said softly.

Chandler gave her a gentle squeeze and drifted to sleep.

***

Nearly two weeks passed and Monica's weekend with Chandler had become a distant memory. She didn't count their meeting a few days later because it hadn't ended well. She'd met him at his office for lunch and a midday fuck. After a couple of bites of food and a few warm kisses, Monica was riding him on top of his desk when her cell phone rang. She knew Chandler didn't like to be reminded of her other life, but she couldn't very well tell her husband not to call her. Though his anger didn't get the best of him until she referred to herself as Mrs. Burke when she received a phone call from the caterer about a dinner party for a friend of Richard's. There was no playful teasing like before from Chandler. He then lifted her from his lap and gave her the brush off.

She'd left his office unsatisfied and pissed off, not to mention hurt. Later that night was the first time Monica had sex with her husband to retaliate against her lover. She hadn't even realized she'd done it until a few days afterwards. Richard certainly didn't deserve to bear the brunt of her passive aggressive behavior. He didn't deserve an unfaithful wife, but that didn't stop Monica from going to an expensive lingerie shop to buy something for her aforementioned scorned lover.

So why did she cheat on Richard? Over the past six months since her affair started she'd asked herself that question only once. For her, ignorance really was bliss. She simply didn't want to delve too deeply into the reasons, didn't want to see the ugly truths about herself. All she had to do was think about the chaotic mess her life had become.

A chaotic mess you revel in at every given opportunity.

Well, there was that. She couldn't lie to herself, even if she wanted to. She knew the main reason she cheated on Richard. Chandler... it always came back to him. He was like a drug, or more aptly like decadent chocolate. Delicious and so very addicting. She remembered when their relationship first changed... when she realized that he was more than a friend, and such a great kisser. But that was all it was, at the time. Just a kiss between friends. Until the next time when one kiss wasn't enough, and they had to touch but just couldn't stop touching...

It went on for about a year, the deep kisses and soft caresses and mind blowing sex. It was fun, but Chandler wasn't the type you got serious about. Or at least, that was her assumption. Monica never had the opportunity to find out, because Richard entered her life and made her feel safe and secure and loved. Being with him wasn't fiery and all-consuming, but it was sweet and nice, and good. So good she fell in love and married it. But not good enough to forget what she'd had in her grasp months before. Never so beautiful and overwhelming she wanted to lose herself in him; his love was never so deep and binding she felt incomplete without it.

She'd lost sight of that for a while, refusing to believe such a love could exist. Now it was as natural to her as breathing, and how could she give that up? But she couldn't give up what she shared with Richard either. It was totally irrational and selfish, but very real. She couldn't help her feelings.

***

"So what kind of party is this?" Phoebe asked as she returned from the kitchen carrying three bottles of water. They were sitting around her living room.

"A retirement party, for Richard's friend," Monica said. She took the proffered bottle and smiled her thanks.

Rachel took a bite of salad. "And why are we going?"

"Because I want you to," Monica sighed. "I'll be bored out of my mind if I don't have some people there in my age group."

Phoebe smiled. "You should've thought about that before you married a man twice your age."

"Yeah maybe," Monica laughed. "I mean, I can go out to dinner with some of his friends and be okay. And that's only if it's another couple. But a house full? I'll start to feel like the wives are ganging up on me."

"So you want the wives to gang up on all three of us?" Rachel guessed.

"Yes please." Monica looked almost pitiful.

Rachel glanced at Phoebe before nodding her agreement. "Alright, just wanted to be clear."

Monica sighed in relief. "Great. I've already asked Ross, and Joey agreed only if he could bring a date." She rolled her eyes.

"Wait, what about Chandler? It won't be fair if he doesn't have to go."

"Well Rach, why don't you ask him for me? I haven't talked to him in a while." Monica smiled tightly and stood up from her position on the floor. She'd suddenly lost her appetite.

"Sure," Rachel responded absently, her friend's change in demeanor gone unnoticed. Phoebe, however, had seen the expression on Monica's face at the mention of Chandler. Odd, especially with them being so close. Maybe they had a fight...

She filed a mental note to ask about that later.

***

Monica opened the front door just as a round of boisterous laughter filled the living room behind her. She greeted who she knew to be a few of Richard's friends with a smile, directing them to the makeshift coat room. Before she could close the door, a hand blocked it from further movement pushed back. "It's about time you guys got here," she feigned annoyance.

Ross shrugged as he walked inside. "We would've gotten here sooner, but Rachel..." he left the rest unsaid.

"Of course," his sister nodded in understanding.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Rachel huffed. "You believe the person who takes more time to gel his hair than I do to put together an entire outfit?"

"Hey!" Ross said.

Monica bit her lip to hold in her laughter. "Rach, he's got a point. And that's why Ross starts getting ready hours before he actually leaves."

Rachel rolled her eyes at that and plucked a glass of wine from a waiter passing by. "Whatever. So how's the party?"

"Uh, not bad actually. I haven't wanted to gauge my eyes out yet, so that's good. Phoebe's helped keep the wives away." Monica turned to the group entranced with Phoebe's presence as she told another one of her tales. "Where's Joey?"

"He's on his way. Got caught up with-"

"Right," Monica interrupted.

"Chandler's on his way as well," Ross offered.

Monica shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay," she said, though she was feeling anything but casual. She hadn't spoken to him in weeks, and couldn't figure out why he'd decided to come. A nervous excitement fluttered in her belly, and she had no idea what that meant.

Ross and Rachel gladly separated to mingle with the other guests and Monica made her way back to where Richard stood with a few of his friends, including Dr. Fred Kerry, whom the party was fthe guest of honor. She snaked an arm around her husband's waist, leaning into him.

"Hi," he whispered in her ear. He looped his arm around her shoulder and dropped a kiss on top of her head, never missing a beat as he continued the conversation. Richard felt the urge to pat himself on the back. For the entire evening, he'd wanted nothing more than to show his wife just how much he appreciated that slip of a dress she was wearing. The clingy material fit her body perfectly, moving right along with her as she glided across the room. The neckline, while modest, only enhanced the fullness of her breasts. As proven by the fact that he could not take his eyes away from them.

"What?" he said, suddenly aware that the people around him were talking, probably saying something funny. He really couldn't bring himself to care.

"I was just asking if you thought about retirement," Fred smirked, relaying with his eyes to Richard that he knew exactly what had his attention.

Richard grinned. "Sure I've thought about it, but I don't see it happening for a few years yet. Why, do you need a permanent golf partner?"

"If I did, do you really think I'd settle for looking at your ugly mug everyday?" The group howled with laughter. "Monica, how 'bout it?" Fred teased.

"I don't think so," Richard quickly responded.

Monica laughed, "Honey, you know I wouldn't dream of playing golf with anybody but you."

The good natured teasing of Richard's friends faded to the background as she turned her attention to the front door. Standing just inside the entrance was Chandler... and a beautiful red head practically clawing at him. Monica frowned.

She excused herself from the group and walked slowly to her lover. Was he still her lover? It was pretty hard to make a decision either way when they weren't speaking to each other. "Hi Chandler," she greeted. "Glad you could make it." She looked pointedly at his date.

He plastered a smile on his face. "Hey Mon, you know I wouldn't miss a party for your husband."

"Actually it's not for him, but for a friend of his," she said with a cold smile.

"You have a beautiful home." Monica eyed the pretty face on Chandler's arm, almost surprised to hear her speak.

"Thank you. I'm Monica, and you are?"

"Gwen, nice to meet you." Her smile was genuine, and Monica was struck again with how beautiful the woman was. She really wanted to her hate her, being the competition and all... but there was something about her that she instantly liked.

"You too. Come on in, let me introduce you to some of our friends." Monica completely ignored Chandler as she guided his date toward Ross, Rachel and Phoebe. Joey and his date had also finally arrived.

Monica spent most of her time back and forth between her own friends, and Richard's. When she wasn't cutting her eyes at Chandler, she was trying to bury her jealousy of Gwen. And more than anything, she wanted to knock that arrogant smirk off of Chandler's face, the smug bastard.

She'd been silently reminding herself that she was a married woman, and should not care if Chandler screwed Gwen's brains out when Fred broke her reverie, asking for a glass of water. "Sure," she said, and returned with a glass in hand moments later. Fred was standing beside Richard, who had taken a seat in a nearby chair. Her husband coughed a few times-- deep hacking coughs that gave her pause.

She caressed the side of his face, running her fingers through his hair. "Sweetie, are you okay?" She watched as Fred handed him the glass of water.

"I'm okay," Richard nodded, taking a gulp of water.

"You still got that cough, old man?" Fred inquired. "You should see a doctor about that."

Still? Monica thought. That would imply that he's coughed like that before... why haven't I heard this? "How long has this been going on?"

"Not long. It's probably just a cold or something," he forced a smile for her benefit. "Nothing to worry about, I promise." He brushed his lips against hers.

Monica bit her bottom lip. "Still, maybe you should see a doctor. I mean, it couldn't hurt."

"Come on Rich, you need to stay healthy so you can keep up with your wife," Fred joked.

"Oh, he can keep up with the best of them," she winked at Richard. "But, I just want to make sure, okay?"

Richard reluctantly agreed to make an appointment. He didn't know that he wanted to find out if anything was wrong, but he also didn't want to worry Monica. He needed to face whatever lied ahead, for her.

Monica excused herself a few minutes later under the ruse of taking the empty glass to the kitchen. But anyone who really knew her could tell that she was shaken up about something. Chandler, who had been watching discreetly from across the room, excused himself from his group as well and followed her.

She leaned against the counter with her head bowed, taking deep calming breaths. She wracked her brain for signs in the past that would indicate Richard's sickness. That was no ordinary cough he had, and it scared her that he would just casually brush it off as nothing.

"Are you okay?" Chandler spoke quietly behind her.

Monica turned to face him slowly and nodded. "Yeah, just peachy. What are you doing in here?"

"Checking up on you," he said matter-of-factly. He wanted it known in no uncertain terms that he was there for her... that he'd always be there for her, no matter what happened between them.

She almost smiled. "Thank you Chandler."

They both remained silent, letting their emotions speak for them. Almost a month had passed since they'd last seen each other. Her eyes drank in the length of him, from his thick hair that she loved to play in, down to his long elegant fingers that had brought her so much pleasure. She gazed down his torso and beyond, her cheeks flushed from the direction her thoughts had taken. Down girl.

Chandler cleared his throat. "Uh, Gwen and I are gonna take off."

"Okay, thanks for coming," she said and turned back around.

He remained still for a moment before closing the gap between them, his lips scant inches away from her ear. His hands came to rest gently on her shoulders. "You look so beautiful tonight," he whispered, and left the room just as quietly as he entered.

A single tear slid down Monica's cheek.

***

She'd debated with herself back and forth on the cab ride over; questioned her sanity and intelligence. And as she stepped out of the cab and entered the apartment building, she'd come to the simple conclusion that she had neither. They'd both took off to parts unknown, leaving her with a basic instinct to seek out her mate. She chuckled at that statement. She sounded like a wild animal on the hunt. "And he's my prey," she said in a sing-song voice and knocked on the door.

Chandler opened the door with a cigarette hanging precariously from his lips, his shirt half unbuttoned... and looking sexy as all hell.

"Hi," she said softly.

He took a long drag and blew the smoke from his mouth slowly. "Hey."

Monica licked her lips nervously. "Can I come in?"

His only answer was to open the door wider, gesturing for her to enter. She looked around the semi-neat apartment and turned around at the sound of the locks clicking in place. Chandler put out the remainder of his cigarette in the ashtray nearby, his gaze never leaving hers. She started to say something and suddenly his mouth was on hers, a persistent pressure against her lips until she opened for him. His tongue slipped inside, darting playfully, lustfully. She suckled on his bottom lip before plunging her tongue deep inside, pulling him flush against her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers sunk into the thickness of his hair at the nape and she scratched gently at his scalp. She'd missed him so much, and it felt like forever since she'd tasted him. He even made the aftertaste of smoke bearable, and that was saying something because she hated smoke.

They broke away at the same time and gasped for breath. A grin spread across Chandler's face. "I've been wanting to do that since I saw you three days ago."

"Me too. I-I missed you," she admitted, suddenly shy.

Chandler was tempted to say something sarcastic and possibly ruin the moment. But he'd missed her so much, maybe more than she missed him. "God Monica," he framed her face with his larger hands, "I thought that-- I didn't think you'd want to see me anymore, after the way I acted. I was just jealous as hell, and I know it doesn't make much sense because, hello? you're married but..."

She smiled. "It makes perfect sense. I shouldn't be here Chandler, and I shouldn't care as much as I do, and god I shouldn't be jealous of you and Gwen or some other woman. But I am, and I can't help it." Her eyes watered and she looked down. "Just tell me to leave right now. Tell me to go home to my loving husband and forget about you. And you have to be mean about it, otherwise I won't believe you."

He lifted her gaze back to his with his finger, all traces of humor wiped from his face. "I don't want you to leave and go back to your loving husband. I don't want you to forget about me, Monica. I want you to remember me always, remember what we share and what I feel for you.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, licking the seam where her tears fell.

She sighed as his words rushed through her. She didn't just hear them, she felt them fill up every part of her touched by Richard and every other man in her life, and each part of her unaffected by even him. He was there now, inside as she willingly opened herself to him. "I love you too," she said.

The two lovers shared a secret smile and a soft kiss, content just to feel without the rush of completion. However, twenty seconds was all Chandler needed to savor the moment. "Let me take your coat," he said softly, untying the belt around her waist. When she peeled the thin material from her body and let it slip to the floor, his heart almost stopped.

And he knew for a fact that it skipped a beat.

There his love stood, clad in a black corset-style merrywidow... crotch less, he reminded himself. The satin material hugged her curves possessively, her legs were bare and her feet were encased in black stiletto heels. She looked like a dark goddess. Chandler ran his fingertip across her merlot painted lips. "God, you are so beautiful."

She preened prettily at him. "I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?"

"Mhmm," he squeaked.

Monica leaned into him, pressing her already painfully aroused breasts into his chest. "Does it make you want to 'do me'?"

She spoke in that low 'husky come fuck me' voice he loved so much, and only had a moment to gasp in surprise before his mouth swept down on hers again. He dipped his tongue inside her welcoming mouth, seeking and circling her own in broad strokes while his hands smooth down her bare thighs and around to cup the globes of her ass. Without breaking contact they made their way to the bedroom, Monica removing an article of his clothing every step of the way.

When the back of his legs hit the bed, he shucked the only thing left covering is skin-- his underwear. With very little encouragement on Monica's part, he fell back against the sheets and she straddled his lap. Their lips met fiercely as she rubbed herself against the hard shaft jutting insistently between her legs. She was already so close... so close, rub right there, almost, not quite... "oh god," she groaned into his mouth as her orgasm washed over her, poured from her body and down his legs.

She sucked on his tongue with renewed vigor, pressing more fully into him. "Mon... sweetheart, I want to be inside you," he whispered and slipped her shoes off her feet.

"Yes," she sighed, gripping his slick cock in her hand and guiding him inside her wetness. She braced her hands on his chest and lifted her hips before slamming back down, embedding him to the root within her body. She moved her hips in a bewitching rhythm, throwing her head back as his cock kissed the mouth of her womb. "Mmm... Chandler... oh, you feel so... good," she moaned.

Chandler slid his hands up her torso to touch her full breasts set to overflow in the corset. He was hypnotized by the sensation of her pounding away on his engorged sex, her breasts bouncing in his face. He sat up, pulling his knees closer and thrusting even deeper inside her channel. Leaning forward, he buried his face in her cleavage, sucking on the skin exposed there as his tongue sought more. Jerking the satin corset down from her chest, her full breasts popped out and his tongue immediately lashed at her hard nipples. He went back and forth between the two, nursing each delicately with just the right amount of pressure she craved. His left hand grazed up her spine and back to tangle in her hair and she exploded around him, screaming his name. His felt a tingle in his sac and knew he was getting close. He stilled her hips on his as she throbbed around him, clenching his jaw in an effort to gain control.

Still coming down from her amazing high, she gasped when he rolled her onto her back and thrust home sharply. He twined his fingers with hers and raised their arms above her head. He slowed the rhythm to solid strokes while he kissed her chin and down the side of her neck. Griping both her wrists with his left hand, his glided his right hand between her soft thighs to rub against her clit. He massaged the taut bundle of nerves and thrust deeper, harder with every down stroke; felt her muscles squeeze in what was to come. His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke lowly into her ear, "That's it baby, come for me..."

"Ahhhhh," she bellowed as her world disintegrated for the third time. When she couldn't hold on any longer, her legs fell limp from around his waist as she tried to catch her breath. She opened her eyes and met his own, nearly sparkling with lust and adoration. She felt him expand within her and framed his face in her hands, pulling him down for a wet sensual kiss. They both groaned in dissatisfaction when his shaft slipped from her body. "Turn over," he whispered against her lips.

Monica silently got on her hands and knees, shaking her ass enticingly in his direction with a grin. Chandler playfully slapped her right cheek and gripped her hips, pushing through the folds of her body until he was back inside her honeyed walls. His eyes raked over her back coated with a thin layer of sweat and he thrust hard into her body. The picture of her, submissive and willing before him turned him on so much he almost came right then. Instead he started a pounding frenzied rhythm that robbed her of speech and relegated her to feminine growls and soft whimpers. She felt overexposed to pleasure, the strain too great; one too many fucking orgasms even as the next one built a storm in her womb. But this time she had every intention on taking him with her when she perched over the edge. Reaching behind her, she grazed the cool skin of his sac, all the blood having rushed to his cock threatening to split her wide open. She cupped his balls in her hand, squeezing gently with each thrust and parry of his hips.

"Chandler... oooh yes, baby... god, harder!"

Chandler ran a fingertip down the contours of her back and reached for the corset. Nearly ripping the material to shreds in his haste to touch her, he finally released the snaps and flung it over his shoulders. His hands came around to her chest and he cupped her breasts in his hands. He pulled her upwards until her back was flush with his chest and she tilted her head back to lay on his shoulder. He dropped little love bites down her neck and across her shoulder as he slid one hand down her flat belly to nestle in the dark curls there, holding her pelvis against his persistent thrusts.

"Mon... ahh... so beautiful," he sighed, "Baby... feel sogood... loveyou..."

"Love you... too, oh... more, please Chandler more," she moaned, sinking her fingers in his hair to guide his lips to hers. Their mouths fused together, tongues and fingers titillating organs, control snapping, spinning out of control...

"FUCK!!" he gasped in pleasure/pain and his spilled his hot seed inside her. He groaned as she screamed and milked his cock in her own release, thrusting once more as she fell over on the bed. He collapsed beside her, their ragged breaths filling the otherwise quiet apartment.

He leaned over and brushed her wild hair out of her face, giving her a soft kiss. "That was amazing," he breathed.

Monica grinned as much as her labored breathing would allow. "I know... I don't think I'll be able to move for at least an hour." She quirked her brow suggestively and Chandler laughed.

"How long can you stay?"

"Just a few hours. Richard thinks I had to work late, so I'll need to be home around nine," she said kissing his chest and laying her head over his heart.

"Good," he murmured. "I just need to rest for a while..."

"Mhmm.." she agreed, lulled by his heartbeat she fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

Richard stared at the cigar in his hand, fresh out of the package and ready to be lit. Like he always did before smoking, he inhaled its rich scent, tempted more than ever to light it; damn the consequences.

And he would do that, if he only had himself to consider.

But no, he had to go and move on after his divorce from Barbara. He actually had the audacity to meet and fall completely in love with a woman young enough to be his daughter, and marry her. And he couldn't forget his own kids and grandchildren... what would they think, if they saw him now? Lost and confused, not at all like the self-assured man they'd known all their lives. Would they think less of him? Would his beautiful young wife?

His brooding was cut short when the object of his every thought and dream walked through the door. She'd had to work late over the past few days, so he was surprised to see her so early. Elated, but surprised... and a little apprehensive.

"Richard!" She smiled. "What are you doing home so early?" She walked over to where he sat and gave him a lingering kiss.

He put on a smile for her benefit. "I was just in the neighborhood. Are you not happy to see me?"

"Sweetie, I'm always happy to see you. It's just a pleasant surprise, that's all."

He remained in his seat, though his watchful eyes followed her around their home. His heart swelled with love every time their eyes met, and she'd wink at him before going about her business. He wanted to savor those moments, because there would be so few of them in the future when she was that carefree and happy.

By dinner Richard's mood had soured tremendously. Monica did everything she could to spark conversation, but his one word answers, or sometimes none at all, were difficult to work around. She tried one last time as they were clearing the table. "Honey, what's wrong? Did something happen at work? Are Michelle and the kids okay? Please, talk to me," she pleaded.

He was instantly contrite. He didn't intentionally try to shut her out, but it happened all the same. And one look into her eyes told him she thought it was something she did, and that was unacceptable. It was his fault, never hers. "Come here," he murmured, taking her hand in his and leading her over to the couch.

Richard sighed deeply. "Monica, remember when I went to the doctor a few days ago, just for a routine check-up. Well, my test results came back today." He felt her breath pause and kissed the palm of her hand. "I have cancer."

The silence was deafening. Monica shook her head, "What?"

"I have cancer," he repeated. "They found traces in my lung."

She tried to concentrate on her breathing, on making sure oxygen got to her brain so that she wouldn't faint in his arms. Cancer? No, he can't have cancer... he's healthy. "They're wrong," she said aloud.

"No, they're not sweet."

"How can you be so sure? Do you trust this doctor? Maybe he... or she, doesn't know what the hell they're talking about!" She jerked her hand from under his and paced the floor in front of him. "Doctor's misdiagnose things all the time Richard. It's probably just a mistake."

He blocked her righteous pacing. "Monica. It's real. They checked, double checked and re-checked. No mistakes."

Monica seemed to collapse within herself as his words sank in. He lead her to the couch once more and she sat down, seemingly in shock. Tears filled her eyes but seemed unwilling to fall. Richard picked up the cigar he'd held earlier and rolled it between his fingers. After a moment's hesitation he picked up a lighter and prepared to open the flame.

"What are you doing?" She yelled and snatched the lighter from his hand.

"Monica," he said in a tone he reserved for children. "I'm dying of cancer. It's a little late to stop smoking, don't you think? It won't hurt anything now."

Her beautiful eyes widened and tears spilled down her cheeks. "Don't you dare give up without a fight!" His cigar went the way of his lighter and he was left staring at her, a beautiful and fiercely protective woman, feeling no small amount of pride. "You have CANCER Richard, but you're not DEAD yet. You can fight this! But I'll be damned if I stay here while you smoke yourself to death because you're too afraid to try! I won't do it." She fell back on the couch as sobs wracked her body.

He moved without conscious effort, wrapping his arms around her body as it shook from the force of her tears. Soon his own tears rolled down his face and he leaned his head against hers. "I won't give up Mon, I promise," he said brokenly. "But I can't do this without you."

Monica pulled his head down to lay on her shoulder, hugging him as tightly as she could manage. "You won't have to," she whispered.

***

The next few days blurred as Monica and Richard broke the news to their friends and family and made plans to begin chemotherapy right away. She was never far from his side and eventually took a leave of absence from her job just so she could be there whenever he needed her. Weeks passed as Richard underwent treatment, and though he seemed to be getting better, the chemo was destroying his body. He was weak all the time, couldn't eat and could barely sleep. She was on a first name basis with most of the staff in his wing at the hospital, but she knew they pitied her. Monica wasn't sure the treatment was killing all traces of the cancer, or killing her husband. His pain was her pain, and eventually she'd been forced to go home by his doctor.

Somehow she ended up outside Chandler's door knocking softly, unsure if she wanted him to open the door. He answered after the first knock and ushered her inside. He kissed her on the cheek and pushed her inside his bathroom with a clean towel and she took a shower. He fed her, and made sure she went to sleep. When she woke up from a horrible dream sobbing he held her in his arms until she fell back asleep. He listened to her confessions of guilt, that it was somehow her fault that Richard had cancer. And all the while, he caressed her hair, kissed her lips and cheeks softly and rocked her slowly. He healed her soul, mended her heart, made her strong enough to face her husband's illness... all without saying a word.

When she was dressed and ready to leave, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, slipping his tongue inside her mouth with gentle strokes before letting her go. "Thank you, for everything," she murmured gratefully.

She paused at the door, turned around and brought her finger to her lips for a moment. "Why?"

"Why what?" he asked.

"Why are you being so nice about all this? You didn't have to."

Chandler cupped her face with his palm. "Because I love you."

She nodded. "I don't know h-how to..."

"Just come back to me," he whispered. And it was as simple as that.

***

Her entire body felt numb and depleted. No more tears to be shed, no energy to scream or rage or say a damn thing. Days, then weeks and now months had gone by... they'd come so far, only to be told in the end that none of it matter.

"The cancer has advanced. It's spread through his body. I'm sorry."

What could you say to that? The doctors had given up hope, there was nothing more to be done... but die. A slow painful death that he did not deserve. They'd cried for hours, and when he was too exhausted to do anything else but sleep, she continued to mourn. It was something she had to do then, because he would need her to be the strong one later.

She eyed the public phone across the hall, willing the strength she did not have to come to her for what she had to do next. How was she suppose to tell his children and grandchildren that they had to say goodbye? How was that fair?

She pulled herself to her feet and made her way to the phone, licking her lips nervously. She had to put Richard first, and forget about her feelings. This was about making him happy during his last moments on earth.

***

She knocked firmly on the door, feeling some of the numbness that always surrounded her melt away. As soon as the door swung open, he grasped her hand in his, gracing her with a smile that she knew belonged to her only. Seconds later he had her pressed against the door, twisting the lock with one hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck, planting the most sensual, deep kiss he'd ever had. He ground his hips into hers, rubbing his rock hard arousal against her, panting with need.

He nipped at her mouth and danced his lips and tongue down the column of her neck. Frantically, she hitched up her skirt around her waist while he unbuckled his trousers and pushed them down his hips. Gripping his straining cock in his hand, he raised her against the door and entered her with one smooth stroke. They both hissed in pleasure and she locked her legs around his waist and kissed him, meeting each rhythmic thrust as best she could. The coupling was fierce and demanding, passionate pleas and grunts filled the air of the otherwise empty apartment. When she finally found release and shouted his name, his own climax slammed into hers, sending both their convulsing bodies sliding to the floor.

Numb again, but pleasantly so, hours later she lay against his naked form on his bed... their bed. But despair nipped at the heels of her happiness, and she realized she couldn't put it off much longer. Sitting up beside him, she regard his face seriously. He was just beautiful. Not classically handsome, but the slant of his eyes, strong jaw line and gently curved lips made him absolutely irresistible to her. And his soul... her eyes filled with tears. They were connected in ways not many people experienced, and distance would in no way change that. It would hurt like hell, but they were bound by more than just the physical, even more than the emotional. She chose to focus on that fact, knowing that their time together would come.

She caressed his face and he opened his eyes. "I can't do this anymore Chandler."

The smile he wore disappeared and he copied her position. "Do what?"

She abruptly stood from the bed. She could break his heart as long as she didn't see his eyes. "This. Us. It's over," she said simply. She tried to keep her voice cool and unfeeling, but then negated that as she hastily wiped her tears away.

"What?" he asked softly and rose from the bed as well to stand in front of her. "What do you mean it's over? You don't mean that..."

"Yes I do mean it!" she yelled, yanking on her panties and bra that were discarded around the room. "I can't do this anymore Chandler! Richard, he... he has cancer and I..."

He framed her face with his hands, meeting her watery gaze. "I thought he was getting treatment? That he was doing better."

She lowered her eyes as the guilt overwhelmed her. She'd been lounging around with her lover while her husband sat in a hospital bed facing his mortality, and all she could think about was how tempting it was to fall into Chandler's arms and forget about the outside world. She was a horrible person. "Today we found out that the cancer spread all over his body. There's nothing they can do for him," she mumbled into his chest.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry..."

She pushed away from his comforting embrace and continued dressing. "It doesn't matter, now. I'll take care of him until he..." she left the last word unspoken. "I owe him that, at least. Damn it, where is my other shoe?"

Chandler calmly handed her the aforementioned shoe and stilled her movements with his hands. "Hey listen, we'll get through this together." His voice was soothing to her ears... and it pissed her off.

Monica jerked away from him again and her eyes flashed with anger. "You just don't get it, do you! THERE IS NO US!" The hurt expression on his face egged her on. He had to understand. "WE can't don't anything Chandler, it's over!"

His silence propelled her out of the bedroom and she grabbed her coat and purse, hoping to make a clean break. But for once her lover was obtuse, refusing to accept her hard words. He backed her into the door... the same door they'd made love against hours ago, and pressed his lips against hers harshly. "No! It's never over," he panted close to tears, "You love me, not him..." he broke off further discussion by plunging his tongue into her mouth, kissing her breathless. She pulled him closer, loathing herself for her lack of control and gladly surrendering to his frantic assault at the same time. She knew she had to put some distance between them, that the only way he'd understand it was over was if she physically left, and kissing him back wasn't helping things. She tore away from him and it was like her heart was breaking all over again. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked into his watery eyes. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how much it was killing her to make this decision, but remained silent. She could tell by the dimness of his gaze that he finally accepted she was serious, that she would be allowed to leave without further resistance. She turned the lock slowly and left his apartment.

 

 **A Way Home: Part II**

 

 _Seven months later..._

She stood in front of her bedroom mirror eyeing her appearance in one of several outfits she'd tried on that morning for her husband's funeral. Somewhere between collapsing to her knees on the floor and sobbing with grief and humming his favorite song as she combed her hair for the third time, she'd lost count of how many items of clothing she'd gone through. Nothing seemed appropriate for the occasion. Too short, too drab, not solemn enough, not good enough. Who knew there was so much pressure to look the part of the grieving widow?

She gazed absently out of the window at the depressing grey skyline. "Well at least the weather's appropriate," she uttered to herself. Such a small blessing on this day, was oddly comforting to her. Taking a deep breath, she resumed her search and finally decided on a simple black dress she was sure she'd tried on already. Gazing at her reflection once more, her eyes filled with tears. "I can't wear my hair like this!" she wailed.

The door burst open as her two best friends rushed in. "Monica, what is it?" Rachel and Phoebe asked simultaneously. They stared at their friend with her teary gaze pointing helplessly at her hair.

"Everything's falling apart," she uttered brokenly. Monica started, resisting the urge to say what was on the tip of her tongue: things had already fallen apart. Long before her husband died, longer still before they knew he was sick. Her inability to settle on a hairstyle was the least of her worries.

Rachel approached her hesitantly, as if afraid Monica would bolt at any sudden movement. "It's okay honey, we can fix it." No need bringing up the fact that her hair looked like it had already been brushed until it shined, flowing down her back.

"I'm sorry," Monica moaned as she dropped her head into her hands. "I'm just a mess this morning."

"We understand Mon, it's alright."

Monica eyed Rachel warily. "Do you really, Rach? Did your husband die after battling cancer for six months?" she snapped, and regretted her words instantly at the hurt expression on her friend's face. What's wrong with me?

Phoebe stepped between them, laying a comforting hand on either of their shoulders. "Monica, what Rachel meant was that you don't have to apologize. We understand that you're in pain, and that's okay. It's normal." Phoebe returned Rachel's smile of gratitude.

Monica nodded, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. A part of her wanted to pull her friends into a strong hug and thank them for being her rock through this entire ordeal. Still, another part of her wanted to push them out of the bedroom and lock herself in until she woke up from her nightmare. She looked in the mirror and sighed... she'd have to redo her makeup. Not that it really mattered when she'd just ruin it again at the funeral. She just wanted to make it through the day. Or, through the next few hours... that was at least a more realistic goal.

She turned to Rachel and said with a half-smile, "Would you help me finish getting ready?"

"Sure," Rachel replied, and suddenly pulled her into a hug. She took her place behind Monica and lifted the brush in her hand just as a knock sounded at the door.

"Hey Joey," Phoebe greeted as she opened the door.

"Hey," he directed at Monica and Rachel before turning to Phoebe, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course," she nodded and followed Joey into the hallway that separated the two bedrooms from the rest of the condo Monica shared with her husband. Not anymore though, Phoebe thought to herself. I wonder if his spirit is still here...

Joey led her into the grand living room, filled with furniture that was equally Monica and Richard. Phoebe wondered why Joey was so quiet but before she could voice her concern her own gaze met a familiar face, and she gasped in surprise. "Oh my God!" Her rapid footsteps closed the distance and within seconds she was hugging her friend. "You came!" she said excitedly, a genuine smile on her face. There'd been very little to smile about recently.

Chandler wrapped his arms around Phoebe as tight as she held him, grateful for such a warm reception. He only hoped everyone else felt the same way. "I couldn't not come Phoebe," he finally replied.

Phoebe pulled back, nodding. "I know, I just figured... well, it's not important now. What made you change your mind?"

Chandler smirked and angled his head in Ross's direction. "A friend."

Turning to Ross she asked, "Really?"

He simply shrugged and nodded, "I just told him to stop being an asshole because my sister needs him." Even if she doesn't realize it.

Chandler didn't know if he'd ever be able to explain to Ross how much it meant to him when he said Monica needed him. He'd long given up hope of ever being close to her again. Well, that wasn't completely true. There was still that small part hidden deep inside his soul that knew they'd find their way back to one another. Not anytime soon, he'd admit to himself, but in a year, five years... maybe. Ross's appearance at his front door last night and then again this morning had awakened that dormant part of him, and now it hummed with joy at the prospect of being reunited with her. His soul's mate.

He wanted to smile at how easily now he accepted her role in his life. His soul's mate. It sounded good to his ears, and felt even better to say it. Through their years of friendship he knew the connection he shared with Monica was different than what was between himself and Phoebe, or Rachel. And then it all changed when they became lovers. Their connection was deeper, more real. All it took was one look, one kiss, one brush of skin against skin, and Chandler knew what it was that'd been missing from his life. What his soul had been starving for. Of course he'd been in denial then, refusing to submit to belonging to someone so wholly you can't live without them. Existing was easy, he'd done that for years... but living took the strength his soul lacked without Monica by his side. So he sought to rectify that situation. They were in love, they wanted and needed each other, it was perfect. Except it wasn't perfect because Monica had married Richard, not him. Her last name was Burke, not Bing, and Chandler cursed himself for waiting so late.

And now, here he was again, trying to resolve the mess they'd both made. Her husband's funeral wasn't exactly the ideal place for their reunion, but Chandler wasn't about to complain. He would take Monica any way he could get her, and that was the one thing that hadn't changed. He definitely still wanted her.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly.

Phoebe watched him for a moment, trying to decide if his presence right now would make things better or worse. None of them knew what really happened between Monica and Chandler all those months ago, but whatever it was left their friendship in ruins and Chandler brokenhearted. Not that Monica faired any better... "She's in the bedroom," she finally said, motioning for him to follow her towards the back. Once they reached the door, she paused. "Wait here a second," she commanded and slipped through the door without waiting for his response.

Chandler took that moment to gather his thoughts, prepare himself for the shock of seeing Monica again. Almost seven months had passed, but if he closed his eyes it'd seem like only yesterday since he'd last made love to her. Just a few short months since she'd walked out his door, taking his heart with her. He shifted anxiously. Just a few more minutes...

***

Monica sighed deeply as Rachel brushed her hair away from her shoulders and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. "All done," her friend said.

"Thanks Rach, I'm glad you're here."

"Always," Rachel smiled. Both women turned as the door opened, readmitting Phoebe. "Phoebe," she greeted, coming to meet her as the blonde beckoned her. "What is it?" she asked quietly. Phoebe whispered something in her ear and Rachel turned surprised eyes toward Monica. "Mon, there's a visitor here to see you. Are you up for company?"

Monica tucked a lock of hair behind her ear nervously. She couldn't prolong the inevitable. Once the guests started to arrive, they'd make their way to the procession. "Sure, I guess. Do I look okay?" she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress.

"You look great Mon," Phoebe announced and frowned when Rachel elbowed her in the side. "Hey! You know, funeral-wise," she explained.

"Thanks Pheebs," Monica murmured.

Phoebe and Rachel opened the door wide and the guest walked in, hugging Rachel briefly as they left the room. Monica turned her attention to the guests and gasped in shock. This has to be a dream... I only see him in my dreams. His name was like a whisper on the room. "Chandler?"

Suddenly she felt too warm, the room started spinning and her knees buckled. Before she collapsed fully to the floor her apparition gathered her in his arms, his warm, real arms, and she leaned against him.

"I've got you," he whispered in her hair, inhaling the almond shampoo she'd washed her hair with that morning.

"You're really..." she breathed. The desire to cuddle against his chest was overwhelming. Instead, she pushed him away, turning her body towards his. "What are you doing here? Why?"

Chandler was startled by the coolness of her voice, but he reminded himself of one crucial detail. It's the day of Richard's funeral, of course she's not happy. Idiot. "What am I doing here? To pay my respects to Richard's family. Why? Because you're here."

Monica's eyes narrowed as she observed him. She let out an empty laugh and rose to her feet. "Come on Chandler," she goaded, filled with irrational anger at him and not knowing why. "You really expect me to believe that? You're here because of me?"

"Yes, it's the truth," he replied.

Staring into his eyes, at his relaxed demeanor, she felt the truth of his words. Her anger immediately dissipated. "After everything that's happened between us? My husband dies and you're here... I don't understand."

Chandler rose to his feet as well and took her small hand in his. "I care about you, Monica. I love you."

"No," she shook her head, "don't say that."

He took a step closer, still holding onto her hand. "Why?"

"Because you can't... you don't mean it. Not now," she finished softly.

Chandler frowned. "Of course I mean it, Monica. I do love you..."

STOP IT!" Monica shouted. "You don't, you can't! It's not appropriate!" she cried as her eyes filled with tears.

Something inside Chandler snapped and he pulled her against him roughly, a firm hold on her forearms. "I love you damn it! I. LOVE. YOU! Don't tell me what I feel." He released her abruptly when she whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why the hell do you think I'm here?" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'll admit it, I don't like Richard. But I care enough about you to be here for... whatever it is that you need."

He stood in front of her once again and caressed the side of her face gently. "I'm just here to support you, to help you through this day Mon... please, don't shut me out."

Monica's eyes shot up at his words... to help you through this day... Hadn't she wished for the exact same thing earlier? The strength to make it through the day? And Chandler had magically appeared, offering physical and emotional support... and most importantly, his love. She leaned into his hand, closing the distance between them with one step. "Chandler," she murmured, "But what will people say when--"

"They'll say that you are a lucky person to be surrounded by friends and family who love you," he cut her off gently. Not being able to stand it any longer, he gathered her in his arms and held her closely. She lay her head on his chest while he twined one had in her hair, the other resting on her hip. It felt so good to hold her after months of being apart. She still felt the same, still carried that alluring scent, and somehow managed to feel and smell better at the same time. Chandler tried his damnedest to keep his mind on comforting her in a friendly way, to not let his thoughts stray to feeling her soft lips on his, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body. But as Monica snuggled closer, her curves fitting so perfectly along his taller one, he groaned in defeat as his arousal flared, suffusing his body in heat.

She felt his erection and her heartbeat sped up. Thoughts of their last encounter immediately flooded her mind, almost as swiftly as her own desire took over her body, and she pressed closer against him. She never allowed herself to think back to that day, when their world was shattered, their hearts broken...

She never wanted to leave him, but it was what she had to do. Looking back at it now, maybe it was what was suppose to happen, to bring them full circle to the present. Without thinking too clearly about the consequences of her actions... It never stopped me before... Monica tipped her head back, offering him her mouth. He did so without hesitation, nipping at her lips first like he always did before gliding his tongue inside her warmth. He devoured her mouth thoroughly, eliciting a deep moan from Monica that was music to his ears. It was her mating call, her signal to him that it was okay to take her and enjoy it, because she wanted him to. His hand hovered just above her high breasts when she tamed the kiss down with soft brushes of her lips against his and eventually pulled away. "Someone could walk in on us," she rasped.

"So lock the door," he whispered in her ear, followed by a soft kiss. He chuckled at her look of indignation and hugged her close. Of course she was right, even though he loathed to hear that damn word appropriate again.

And that was exactly how Rachel found them when she poked her head inside the door. They looked like two close friends sharing a tight embrace, and even though she sensed there was more to it, she never said anything to either of them about it. Instead, she cleared her throat loudly to interrupt their private moment. "Uh, Mon? The guests are starting to arrive."

Monica nodded her head and Rachel closed the door, once again leaving them alone. "Well, this is it," she said slowly. Chandler intertwined his fingers with hers to show support and she squeezed his hand in response. Together they walked into the living room where her friends and family sat, and Richards friends and family were starting to arrive. She cleared her mind to focus on the task before her; to say goodbye to her husband... with her lover standing by her side. Oh my god, I'm going to hell...

But not once did she let go of Chandler's hand.

***

Richard is finally at peace.

That's what Monica kept saying to herself at the funeral, sitting in front of her husband's casket at the graveyard, flanked by Chandler and Rachel on one side, and Richard's children Michelle and Timothy on the other. She thought back to the months of chemotherapy Richard had to endure, the toll the stress took on them both, his final words to her before he died...

Monica, you need to live. I've lived a full life, despite how it's ending. I was lucky enough to find love twice, and I want that for you. You have to continue living after I'm gone. Promise me...

He'd gone weak from the exertion of his short speech, sleeping deeply into the night until he passed away. For the rest of her life, Monica knew she'd never forget finding him the next morning. Still looking like he was asleep, no lines of stress on his face. He was cold, and when she felt the tautness of his skin she breathed a sigh of relief and sadness. Unbeknownst to Richard, he'd not only surpassed the pain of cancer eating away at his body, but the betrayal of his wife. If nothing else, Monica was thankful he never knew about her relationship with Chandler. Even if he suspected something, he never called her on it.

But it didn't matter to Monica that he never knew; she knew it happened. It didn't make her betrayal any less so just because Richard had been none the wiser. And on top of her own self-recriminations, she had to deal with questioning looks from other people. Friends and family of Richard, wondering who the young man was standing beside Monica... whose hand she refused to let go of.

During one of those rare moments Chandler wasn't by her side, Monica was surprised to see Michelle take a seat next to her. They were back at the condo, where it seemed even more people stopped by to offer their condolences.

"Michelle, how are you?" Monica asked hesitantly. Their relationship was tenuous at best; always had been since Richard announced to his children that he was going to marry their childhood friend.

She arched an eyebrow, her expression clearly that of how do you think I'm doing. "Not good," she replied instead. "I imagine you're the same?"

Monica nodded as she glanced around the apartment. Richard's apartment. That thought slammed against her brutally. The condo had always belonged to Richard. Sure, it was interspersed with her belongings to give it a feminine touch, but the space was all Richard. And suddenly it occurred to her that she'd no longer smell his cigars, or see a glass of scotch he'd fixed for her after a tiring day at work. She'd never feel his mustache against her skin, or smell his rich cologne. She'd never see him again.

A rush of tears flooded her eyes and trailed down her face. She felt Michelle's arms around her shoulders in comfort and gave in to the overwhelming sadness that'd pervaded her senses. They both cried for the man whose love they shared. Different types of love, but a love nonetheless.

Monica snatched a few scraps of Kleenex from the box on the coffee table, handing a few to Michelle, and dried her face. "I'm sorry, it just seems to hit me at odd times that Richard is... well, you know."

"I know what you mean," Michelle conceded. "Yesterday morning I came across a book he let me borrow a while back and I remembered that I needed to give it back to him. It wasn't until his voice mail clicked on that I realized my dad was gone. I just collapsed." She looked away for a moment. "So, yes I understand."

"But you're surrounded by your family, friends," Michelle continued.

"So are you," Monica said. "But they don't exactly replace a husband."

"Monica, I need to say something to you," Michelle began quietly. Her tone belying the seriousness of what she was about to say. "I know my father loved you, and I have to assume that you loved him in your own way..."

"In my own way?" Monica interrupted, only to be quieted by Michelle's raised hand.

"But I also have to assume that you love your friend over there," she gestured toward Chandler leaning against the wall, "just a little bit more. Am I correct?"

Monica swallowed convulsively. Michelle was confronting her about Chandler at Richard's funeral? Michelle knew about Chandler? Does that mean Richard knew? Oh god...

"Dad never knew about your feelings for him," Michelle said, reading her thoughts. "Or maybe he didn't want to know..."

Monica nodded as she breathed a sigh of relief. "I never wanted to hurt Richard, Michelle. You have to believe me. And I did love him."

"Like I said, I know that you loved him. But it doesn't matter what I believe. What's important is that Dad died believing you did." Michelle sighed deeply. "And for that, I thank you."

Without giving the other woman a chance to respond, Michelle rose from her position and walked away. Monica was once again left alone to deal with her chaotic emotions and thoughts. She spared a glance around the condo and wondered just how many people knew about Chandler. Did they all whisper conspiratorially behind her back when they weren't offering her their condolences? Did she even care?

She had to admit that she did care about what these people, half of whom she'd never met until today, thought. Though not solely for herself, but for Richard as well. She didn't want his memory to be tainted by the fact that his wife was an adulteress. That was her problem, not his.

The guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders... her heart. And still, when she met Chandler's gaze across the room the guilt became a less heavy burden. With one look he'd conveyed what she had known to be true all along-- he'd carry that burden with her, for her, if she'd let him.

If only it were that simple.

***

"Are you sure you don't want us to stay?" Rachel asked as she stood by the door.

"Positive," Monica affirmed. "You guys should go home and get some sleep. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done. Really."

"We can help you clean up," Joey offered.

Monica smiled at the gesture and kissed his cheek affectionately. "Thanks Joey, but that's okay. I need something to keep myself busy for a while." She glanced around to the core group of friends that were like family to her. "I'll be okay, I promise."

Reluctantly, they filed outside the condo and into the elevator, waiting as Monica said goodbye to her parents. Ross was the last to leave, collecting his sister in a tight hug, making her promise to call him if she needed anything.

She was putting the last of the disposable plates and cups in the trash when Chandler reappeared from the bathroom. "Cleared the place out, didn't I?"

She scrunched her nose up. "Eww. And no, you didn't. I just wanted to be alone. I said I'd see them tomorrow."

"Okay," he nodded. "You need some help?"

"No, I've got most of it cleared up. I'll take care of the rest later."

"Oh... well, do you want me to leave?" he asked timidly.

"No," she answered immediately. "I mean, I don't know. I'm not sure."

Chandler sighed. "Then what do you want?"

"You," she said softly. "I want you... and I shouldn't, right now. But I do..." her voice trailed off as she looked into his eyes and saw what she was sure reflected in hers.

Need.

She didn't just want him, she needed him almost as much as she needed the elements to survive. She needed to feel his lips on hers, his hands roving her body, him beside her, inside her, with her. She just needed him.

His hands positioned themselves in her hair at her nape and on her hip and he pulled her flush against him. She pulled his head down, claiming his mouth in a slow lingering kiss. Their lips sparked an inferno that steadily built as their bodies rubbed against one another; clothing was ripped from their bodies, lips were swollen from bruising kisses, flesh was caressed into full arousal until it was no longer enough. She wasn't close enough to crawl inside like home; he wasn't deep enough to complete her. No matter how close they came, how soft her skin felt or how good he felt impaling her... even when that flame consumed them both it was only enough until the next time, when the cycle started anew.

Monica lay half-atop him as they stretched out on the couch. She felt an odd mix of restless contentment and wasn't sure from where the conflicting emotions stemmed. Happiness hummed through her veins, and she knew without a doubt that it was because of Chandler. He made her more optimistic than she probably should be. She propped herself on her elbow, reaching out to caress his bottom lip with her thumb. "What are you thinking about?"

"How much I've missed you... how much I love you," he whispered. She smiled and leaned forward to drop a kiss on his lips. "I'm also thinking about how wrong this seems."

Monica froze. "Oh?"

He sat up, maneuvering around the couch until she was facing him. "Monica, you just buried your husband today. Can you honestly tell me that you're ready to be with me?"

He had her there. She was composed of a jumble of feelings and thoughts, none of which could decide what she wanted with certainty. "I guess not."

"After everything we've been through, I need you to be sure that you want to be with me. I need to be sure that I want this... I don't want to play games anymore."

"Neither do I," she agreed.

"Good," he smiled sadly. "I'm gonna go."

She watched as he stood up, beautifully nude, and dressed carefully. She knew he was right, but it was hard to ignore the part of her that wanted to struggle against his decision. "I don't want you to go," she whispered.

"I don't want to go," he said kneeling down between her legs, "but it's not our time yet. You know where to find me when you're ready." He leaned forward to kiss her one last time. "I love you, please believe that," he murmured against her lips.

"I do," her voice cracked as tears filled her eyes. As soon as the door closed behind him, she hugged the pillow against her naked flesh and sobbed.

What if I'm never ready?

***

It took her two months, three weeks and five days to come to terms with everything. Richard's death and her residual feelings for him, her feelings for Chandler... it all came to a head the night after Chandler walked away from her. Deep inside, Monica was proud of him for having the courage to do what she could not; and now she was forced to deal with the fallout that came from her poor judgment and bad decisions.

But it still hurt like hell.

Her ego was bruised, no doubt. But what really troubled her was the second guessing. Had she screwed things up so badly that her chance with Chandler had passed her by? She replayed the day of the funeral over and over in her head, hoping to come upon something she said or did that signified Chandler was at the end of his rope with her, that he was through fighting for her.

And that's when she became angry.

Who the hell did he think he was, giving up like that? After everything they'd been through-- mind games, fear, a marriage; and he just walked out. Was she not worth it? Did he love her at all?

After going through an existential blender her mind, and more importantly her soul, had reached some level of clarity. It was never about Richard... and she could be honest with herself about that and not feel like she was disrespecting his memory. It is, what it is, he'd always say. She loved Richard the best she could... but her heart and soul belonged to another, and it was he who mattered. Chandler. Her sometimes friend, forever lover. And she would do whatever it took to get him back.

Monica moved out of the condo she shared with Richard, turning everything over to his daughter Michelle. She moved back into her grandmother's apartment, which thankfully, wasn't being sublet at the time. And then she did the unthinkable... she found Chandler while he was on his lunch break, with a date. She was surprisingly calm. Chandler excused himself from his companion and resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. Monica simply pulled out a sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "Maybe we can talk... sometime," she said. And without another word she left him standing there in the lobby of the restaurant.

She was surprised when, a week later, Chandler called. They talked for an hour before he ended the call, saying he had a date. His admission hurt, but Monica figured that if he were really serious, he wouldn't have called her. Unless he just wanted to be friends, which she really tried hard not to think about.

And so it went, over the next few weeks their phone calls became more frequent, from once a week to everyday; phone calls at home and at work. Until finally, Chandler gave in to his need to see her. Her voice was no longer enough, and whatever else needed to happen between them had to be done face to face. "Can we meet somewhere. Coffee, maybe?" he asked.

"Coffee? I can do coffee," she said smiling.

***

"I'm sorry," Monica said, looking up from her cup of tea. Of all the things she wanted to start off her meeting with Chandler by saying, an apology was just one of many. There were so many things she wanted to say, needed to say, but her mind was blank. It wasn't until Chandler's eyes met hers, gleaming with a spark of surprise, that gave her the courage to continue.

"Chandler, there are so many things I'm sorry for. I've made a lot of mistakes over the past two years, but you have to know that I don't regret falling in love with you." A look of wonder came across his face, followed by happiness and a bit of smugness at her admission. Monica smiled wryly, but otherwise he said nothing as she continued. "I never should have slept with you..." Chandler's face fell. "After I married Richard. It was wrong, and sometimes I can't even believe it was me who did it. I hurt you, and Richard, and myself because I couldn't decide who or what I wanted. I never want to be in that position again, ever."

Chandler turned his lips into a half-smile and slide his hand across the table, covering hers. "Mon, I'm an adult. You didn't make me do anything," he conceded.

"Well, most of the time anyway," she smiled wickedly, blushing at the memory of their many exploits before turning serious once more. "But I know what I want now."

"And what is that?" he asked.

"I want to be your friend," she said softly. "And your lover." Monica squeezed his hand. "I want to get to know you again, and I want you to know me. I want to share my life with you... and I want you to be my life..." her voice trailed off as she lifted his hand to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss in his palm.

Chandler let out a harsh breath. It was everything he wanted and dreaded simultaneously. Monica loved him, wanted to be with him. His life was finally coming together, piece by piece. So why wasn't he jumping for joy?

A part of him wanted to reject her just like she'd rejected him. But he knew he couldn't hurt her... hell, that was the one thing he couldn't do. And how soft were her lips? God, they felt so good grazing against his palm, and all he could think about was kissing her until she begged him to stop. Then he'd pause for a moment and start all over again...

He took a sip of coffee and tried to focus on the task at hand. Some decisions needed to be made. Monica had made hers, she'd laid her cards on the table. Now it was up to him. Did her want her? God yes. When did he not want her, would be a better question. Could he trust her? He wanted to... but Chandler knew he couldn't handle another rejection from her. The last time had bruised his soul more than he cared to admit.

But she's worth it...

His thoughts seemed to betray him at every turn. It was the truth, of course, but still... He reached out and cupped her face with his hand, sighing as she nuzzled into his open palm. There were tears in her eyes and he fought to steel himself against them. "I love you Monica," he began, "I always will. But..." he couldn't get a grasp on what he wanted to say, his emotions too jumbled.

Monica sighed and nodded in understanding. She half expected this, but that still didn't stop the pain that washed over her. She gathered her purse, preparing to leave him to make his decision alone when his hand settled atop hers, stopping her from further movement.

"Where are you going?" he asked when her gaze finally met his.

"I was leaving. You... you need some time to think about it. I understand," she said, whispering the last part. Her words were a complete contradiction to the expression on her face, which screamed that she was definitely not okay with it.

Chandler wanted to laugh, but refrained... barely. He was about to say just that, that he needed some time to think things over. But hadn't they spent enough time apart? Whether through circumstances or because of other people, the fact remained that they weren't together when that was all either of them wanted. So who was he to stand in the way now? Being with Monica was the one thing he was sure of. She said she wanted to start over, providing the both of them with the much needed opportunity to regain each other's trust. Chandler smiled his first genuine smile of the day. We're gonna make it...

He brought his chair around the small time until he was sitting next to her, with almost no space separating them. He draped his hands over hers and looked into her eyes. "We've spent enough time apart, haven't we?" he asked softly.

Monica opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. Who was she to argue when he wanted to keep them together? She nodded mutely, never taking her eyes off his face.

Chandler sighed. "Here's what I know: I love you, and you love me. Everything else is just... details," he smiled gently and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. She was so beautiful... and despite all they'd been through, he knew he was the luckiest man alive to have her love.

"Just details," she murmured in agreement, leaning forward. He met her halfway, brushing his lips across hers in the barest of kisses, and Monica's heart jumped for joy. She didn't even try to stop the tears as they cascaded down her high cheeks, choosing to indulge herself this time.

"What's this?" he whispered against her mouth, feeling the saltiness of her tears. He pulled back a space, wiping as more tears fell.

"Happy tears, I promise," she said. His mouth looked so inviting she didn't want to deny herself any longer. The second kiss they shared was more heated as Chandler pulled her closed to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. Monica moaned quietly, combing her fingers through the hair at his nape as she deepened her penetration of his mouth, suckling on his bottom lip.

When they finally broke away for oxygen, Chandler grazed her bottom lip with his finger and asked, "Are you? Happy?"

"Hmm, very. Happier than I ever thought I could be," she said.

"Good," he grinned. "Now, you can't go around marrying other people, otherwise this will never work."

Monica laughed. She hadn't felt free enough to laugh with Chandler in a long time. And now they had their forever. "Chandler... shut up and kiss me."

"Gladly," he whispered, making her giggle as he nibbled at her lips.

 

**End**


End file.
